Mine
by Hidge
Summary: He took another step forward and reached out with his long arm to grasp and hold her chin. "You're mine. Say it." 90s! Parents! Part of my ongoing Clifford and Penelope series.


**A/N:** Oh look, more young Clifford and Penelope! Oops.

 **Disclaimer:** Characters are not mine!

* * *

It was unseasonably hot in Riverdale, even more so in the sanctuary of her greenhouse. Penelope laid down her pruning shears and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand before she decided that she needed to take a break. Even in shorts and a thin tank top, she was dripping sweat and gardening was not the relaxing activity that she hoped it would be.

Perhaps she would take a swim to cool off.

She left the greenhouse and had just taken a step around the toolshed when she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist. She was swiftly pulled into the corner where the structure backed up against the greenhouse and pressed against the glass. Clifford's mouth descended on hers and she eagerly kissed him back, her hands grasping his sides and her hips bucking against his on instinct.

When he pulled away to take a breath, he looked down at her with a smile and pushed sticky hair off of her forehead. "We have to stop meeting like this," he joked feebly.

She chuckled breathlessly and ran her hands across his bare chest. He looked like he was fresh off of a run, dripping sweat with a t-shirt tucked into the waistband of his shorts. She bit down on her bottom lip and flushed as her eyes roved over him. Eventually, she looked away in embarrassment. He was so handsome, and they had been getting carried away a lot lately. Amongst the maples. In the back of the family library. In his bedroom late at night when everyone else had gone to bed.

Never actually having sex, but doing everything but.

"We have to stop doing this," she stated. "We're going to get caught."

He hummed as his thumbs rubbed circles into the skin just above her waistband. "What am I supposed to do? Just not touch you?"

He said it as if the possibility of doing just that was impossible.

She continued to worriedly chew on her bottom lip as she palmed his chest and abdomen. "Just until graduation?" She tried to barter.

He groaned and slipped his hands underneath her shirt. High school graduation was still months away. Far too long. He firmly shook his head, he knew that he would not be able to do that. "No, Penelope. I can't. You drive me insane."

A flush washed over her body and she grinned a little tauntingly. "Oh Clifford," she almost purred. "Surely you have more willpower than that?"

He narrowed his eyes before he kissed her again. Her mouth softened under his and she dug her fingernails into his lower back.

She knew that she had to be careful, that she and Clifford were barrelling down a dangerous path. They could only sneak around for so long, and they could only restrain themselves from having actual, penetrative sex for so long.

She moaned when he pressed himself fully against her and lifted her up by the thighs. He hitched her legs around his waist and she let him, throwing her arms around his shoulders to give him more stability. He had gotten very good at this over the past few weeks, he knew now how she liked to be kissed, and touched, and handled.

And he was pushing all of her buttons at the moment.

He tore himself away from her mouth to say breathlessly, "We should go upstairs."

Despite every cell in her body screaming "yes!", she firmly shook her head. "We're going to get caught," she reiterated. His hair was dishevelled and pointing every which way; she couldn't resist running both of her hands over it to smooth it back down. "We need to cool down."

He pressed her further against the side of the greenhouse before he acquiesced with a groan. He placed her back on her feet, but he held her by her hips and rested his forehead against hers. His breath came in heavy pants and she knew just how turned on he was. He used his index finger to gently tilt her chin upwards so that he could join their mouths again.

He hummed into the kiss as she ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. His body had changed so much in just a couple of years. He was broader, leaner, and more toned. Annoyingly attractive, and he didn't even pay attention to the way the girls at school stared at him.

He just seemed completely distracted and enraptured by her.

It was terribly odd.

She gasped when he shifted and she felt his erection brush against her. She pulled away shyly and chewed her bottom lip as he dropped his mouth to her collarbone. He must have sensed the subtle shift in her demeanour because his kisses softened as they slowly worked their way back up to her mouth, and his hands moved to cradle her lower back.

"Are you still ashamed that you turn me on?" He asked curiously.

"A little," she replied honestly. "I think," she began as she absentmindedly played with his hair, "I think I need us to see other people before we really do this."

He furrowed his brow in confusion and scrunched his nose in distaste. "Why?"

She sighed before she confessed, "Because I need to know if you want me for me, or if you want me because you've been told to your entire life."

"Penelope," he groaned. "I already know the answer to that."

"Do you?" She challenged. "Clifford, the truth of the matter is that you're seventeen and dominated by hormones, and father's told you the same thing your entire life."

He rolled his eyes as he took a deliberate step backwards. "So what do you want me to do?" He asked in frustration. "Just go out and have sex with someone?"

"No," she answered immediately. "Ask a girl out. One that you like. Go on dates. Have fun. If that means you have sex then that's okay."

He just pursed his lips in displeasure. "All the girls at our school are vapid and uninteresting."

It was her turn to roll her eyes. "You are pretentious and hypercritical," she retaliated.

"No, I have standards," he disagreed.

She smirked as she placed both of her hands on his chest and pushed him away. "It's what I want, Clifford."

She knew that at this stage he was powerless to deny her what she wanted.

* * *

The sounds of utensils scraping against plates and glasses clinking against oak could be heard throughout the entire house. Blossom family dinners weren't exactly known for being lively, chatty affairs. Every now and then Clifford would be cruelly quizzed on school, baseball, and family business. Penelope just did her best to eat her meal and try not to move so suddenly as to draw more attention to herself than necessary. She liked to think that if she stayed silent and immobile she could become virtually invisible.

She discreetly lifted her head to look at Clifford across the table and saw that he was just as focused on his dinner.

Her back stiffened when her father loudly placed his fork and knife on his plate. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and watched him sit up straighter, preparing to speak.

"Penelope, what you have been doing lately has been completely unacceptable."

Her head turned towards him so fast she was worried she had given herself whiplash. "I'm sorry, Daddy," she answered meekly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please," her mother scoffed. "Strutting around for every boy in town, as if you're anything to look at," she added viciously.

Penelope sniffed and fought back the tears stinging her eyes. No matter how many pep talks she gave herself, and how many times she told herself that it didn't matter what they said, no one had the capacity to hurt her like her so called parents. "I-I haven't been," she tried to argue. "I've just been going to school, and staying for extracurriculars, and coming home."

"And going on dates," her father stated in his eerily calm voice.

The voice that caused goosebumps to erupt on her skin.

She chanced a glance up at Clifford. His eyes were fixed to his plate and his knuckles were white where he gripped his fork. His body language was frightened; however, she did not miss the victorious smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Something about this was playing right into his hand…

She opened her mouth to speak but the words got stuck in her throat.

"There will be no more of it," the Blossom patriarch continued. "You will not embarrass our family name like that. You know that you're not allowed to have a boyfriend."

"I know, Daddy," she murmured. "I don't."

Her pleas and explanations fell on deaf ears. "Your position in this family is very clear, Penelope. You serve a _purpose_." She nodded frantically as tears welled in her eyes. "Do you understand that?"

She continued to nod. She was afraid to speak for fear of breaking down at the dinner table. That would just make things even worse.

"You are incredibly lucky, Penelope," her mother chimed in haughtily. "We could have left you in that dirty place."

"I know!" She squeaked desperately.

Her father sighed, as if her emotional outburst was a mere inconvenience. "That's enough, go up to your room. We will not have this conversation again."

She hastily took her napkin off of her lap and placed it on the table with a shaking hand. She walked out of the dining room and once she was down the hall, out of view, she ran up over the stairs and to her bedroom. She leaned back against her closed door as she reached underneath her glasses and wiped the freefalling tears from her eyes.

 _"_ _That's not family!"_ Echoed loudly in her mind.

As the tears came faster, she sprinted to the adjoining bathroom so that she could take a hot shower and weep in peace and comfort.

When she emerged from the bathroom in her black silk robe, her skin still tinged pink from the temperature and her long hair falling down her back, she found Clifford sitting on the end of her bed.

She stopped in her tracks and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You orchestrated that."

He got to his feet and slowly approached her, not even attempting to deny her accusation. "Neither of us are allowed to date."

She crossed her arms over her chest and kept her expression pinched and stern. "And you asked father for clarification on that house rule?"

He took another step forward and reached out with his long arm to grasp and hold her chin. "You're mine. Say it."

He was done letting her date. He was done with Darryl Doiley's infatuation and Hal Cooper's lewd comments, and boys from neighboring towns. She was his, and had been ever since they were eight years old.

She angrily hit his arm away. "You're being childish and stubborn, Clifford," she snapped back. She was incensed enough to push him away with both hands as he took yet another step forward. "Stop it."

She had never seen him so imposing and persistent, and she had to admit that she kind of liked it.

"Clifford," she warned through gritted teeth.

And he grinned.

He knew that they were playing some kind of game.

After a moment of hesitation so quick that it was almost imperceptible, he grabbed her face with both hands and pulled her in for a rough kiss. Their noses and teeth bumped, and their mouths met sloppily, and neither one of them seemed to care. It all felt very out of control, and hormonal.

And really _good_.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet. She clung to him as he carried her to her bed and laid her on the mattress. He settled between her legs, their feet dangling off the edge, and their mouths still pressed together.

"I am furious with you," she muttered against his lips.

He chuckled as he threaded a hand through her hair. "It shows," he replied sarcastically. She gripped the hair at the back of his neck and flipped him over onto his back so that she could straddle his lap. His wide, darkened eyes blinked up at her as a smile graced his face. His hands tightened on her hips as he growled, "Penelope, I like seeing you mad and frustrated." She arched an eyebrow and opened her mouth to question why, but he was kissing her again, and pulling open the tie of her robe. "You don't try to keep everything so perfectly in order when you're frustrated," he told her in between kisses. "It's sexy."

She was certain that no one had ever used that word to describe her before. She nipped his bottom lip between her teeth in response.

They started to roll around on ridiculously overpriced sheets until a paralyzing thought hit her.

"Clifford," she gasped as she gripped his sides underneath his neatly pressed button-up. "What about—"

Her words turned into a groan when he nipped the curve between her neck and her shoulder.

But he read her mind and finished her thought for her. "They're drinking brandy by the fire and listening to records. We're practically alone."

He was right, their parents had an after dinner routine and neither of them would bother with something as frivolous as saying goodnight to their children. No one would bother them as long as they managed to stay quiet, in the dark.

"Clifford, go and turn off the lights," she frantically whispered in his ear. "They'll think I've already fallen asleep."

The boy scrambled off of the bed and walked across the room to do as he was told. He flicked the light switch with a single finger and once the room was shrouded in darkness, she tossed her robe aside and slipped between her silk sheets. She could see the outline of his tall, broad frame as he moved towards her and she heard the jingling of a belt buckle.

He crawled into the bed with her and nudged her nose with his own as his arms wrapped around her. "I wish I could see you," he whispered, "you're so pretty."

Her breath came fast as shivers raced down her body. She had no idea what to make of his attraction to her most of the time. Outside of Blossom brainwashing, it honestly didn't make any sense to her.

But then he dipped his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth. It was hard for even her to follow a train of thought after that. She moaned, right from the back of her throat, and clutched the back of his head with both hands. She mewled, unable to form coherent words, as he shifted their positions so that she was lying flat on her back and he was on top of her. She was not prepared for the pure sensory overload that accompanied his mouth on her breasts at this moment. She grabbed onto his hair, and tugged, as he lapped at her with his tongue. Her hips bucked and she bit down on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out.

He looked up at her and husked, "Do you like that?"

With her lip still between her teeth, she nodded.

His hand moved to massage her other breast and he grinned in satisfaction. "Mmm, I could do this all day."

And he seemed intent on doing so until she squirmed impatiently beneath him.

"Clifford," she whined. "I need… I, ugh, I need…"

He quickly glanced up at the distressed expression on her face before he shifted onto his hands and knees and dragged his mouth down her stomach. He knew exactly what she needed.

He buried his face between her long, pale legs and kissed her the way that he had learned she liked. And the way he liked because he had discovered that he quite liked this as well. All the locker room talk that he had absorbed had told him that it was only a worthwhile activity as a way to get girls to reciprocate. Now that he had the experience to even mentally participate in that dialogue, he had a very contradictory opinion.

Most of all, he liked the way that she squirmed, and whined, and begged beneath him. Knowing that he was the only person that had ever seen her like this – naked and glistening – and heard the sounds that she was capable of making, well that made him feel incredibly powerful.

Certainly more powerful than anything else ever had.

She arched into his mouth and pressed her face against the pillows alongside her head so that she could let out the moan she was holding in.

She came with a stifled whimper and a harsh tug on his scalp. He sighed in satisfaction and grinned against the inside of her thigh. He took a deep breath and discreetly wiped his mouth before he slid up her body and kissed her soundly.

She was still panting as she weakly wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back.

"I'm the only one that gets to see you like that," he murmured huskily as he dragged his mouth along her cheek. "That can make you feel that way." Her eyes were heavy lidded, almost closed, as he moved his lips to her jaw. "Tell me, Penelope."

"What?" She questioned in a gasp.

"That I'm the only one. That you belong to me."

Her eyes flew open and she looked up at him sternly. "Get out of my bed, Clifford."

He raised his head and blinked at her in confusion. "What?"

"Get out of my bed," she repeated.

"B-but…but," he tried to argue.

She rolled her eyes and sighed as she held his face in both hands. "Think about what you just said and get back to me."

She would not be the first one to surrender in this game.

* * *

 **A/N:** Stay tuned for Part 2. I've been thinking of doing an intsallment from Clifford's perspective of Jason and Cheryl just before the show starts. Thoughts?


End file.
